


Gran

by dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 15:58:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10880145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap/pseuds/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap
Summary: A look into the life and struggles of Augusta Longbottom.





	Gran

_Dear Frank,_

_Stop worrying about your father. You’re supposed to be focusing on your studies. It’s a very important year. You do want to be an Auror, don’t you? So he had a bit of a slip. The Healers are being dramatic. He’s unsteady they say. Walk with a cane they say. Pah! Your father is still as springy as the day I met him. Why he might have fallen but he had just disarmed three masked fools on his very own. They dare utter the word ‘retirement’ around him. What do they do all day besides poke and prod people? Heaven forbid you ask one of them to get you a decent pillow._

_So his blood pressure might be a little high for my liking and he wheezes when he walks up the stairs but the man is seasoned. I’m taking wonderful care of him as always. We’ll see you during the holiday._

_You better be studying,_

_Mum_

_PS – Please do not listen to your father. You know how he likes to exaggerate. I did not threaten to hex a healer. I merely suggested she do something a bit more useful like get my husband a proper lunch than stand around ‘shooting the breeze’ with him. Her flirtatious nature was aggravating. My wand merely singed her lime green robe. It’s nothing to worry about sweetheart!_

 

* * *

 

 

If you asked Augusta Longbottom what her favorite part of her day was she would have certainly said dinner. Breakfast was unimportant because most people had it in a rush on their way to work. Lunch was just as sad because too many had their sandwiches in-between meetings if they worked or alone standing at kitchen sink like she did, not wanting to worry about crumbs.

 

Dinner meant she could dote on her family.

 

Though she didn’t enjoy failed recipes or the jokes her husband made about her chicken (chokes once and never lets her live it down). It is the act of actually sitting down and enjoying each other’s company that makes it all worthwhile.

 

Especially when her son is home from school.

 

“I hear too much laughing in there and not enough of the utensils being set. If I come in there and you’re not ready for dinner it’ll be your heads!” She shouted from the kitchen.

 

Augusta could hear the faint sound of snickers coming from the opposite side of the door. When her son was home her husband tended to revert back to a teenager.

 

Augusta waved her wand at the food she had just finished plating, a roasted chicken, potatoes, a medley of vegetables and some pudding and sent it lazily through the door.

 

She followed her dishes into the dining area where her husband and son were sitting at their seats, table set, laughing at a joke she wasn’t privy too. They always had these inside jokes and whispered conversations that stopped the moment she walked into the room. She would occasionally try to eavesdrop on them but found the conversations lacking.

 

“Chicken again,” Frank Sr. moaned. “And are those vegetables? Are you trying to kill me?”

 

Augusta rolled her eyes at her plump husband. The Healers said he needed a change in his diet. His pressure was too high and no amount of potions would help if he didn’t lay off the fried food and red meat.

 

“Chicken again he says. Not thank you for the lovely meal Augusta.”

 

Frank Sr. guffawed as he prodded a piece of chicken with his fork.

 

“Thanks mum, for the lovely meal.”

 

Frank Sr. glowered at his son. “Frank, whose side are you on?”

 

“He’s on the right side. Don’t pick at your food you senile old man,” she chastised as he prodded his chicken again. To him the white meat looked exceptionally dry.

 

“What happened now?” Their son asked slightly bemused by his parents bickering. They only ever fought if his father did something and his father, though a good man, was _always_ up to something.

 

Augusta didn’t answer and instead started to serve herself. As she cut into a chunk of potato she began to examine her son like a hawk. His normally short-cropped brown hair was much too long for her liking. He was starting to resemble a girl. An arrow was dangling from his left ear. They had already argued about his earring at the train station earlier that day. She didn’t understand the phase her son was going through.

 

“Your mother is just sensitive,” Frank Sr. said with a chuckle.

 

“Sensitive!” she shouted with outrage. “Pah!”

 

“You know how she gets,” he continued, earning a vicious glare from his wife. “It was a harmless joke.”

 

At ‘harmless’ Augusta turned a deep shade of red and slammed her fork down on the table.

 

“Harmless? You call what you did, _harmless_?”

 

Their son whistled and shook his head, giving his father a knowing look. Her voice rose an octave, a clear sign of trouble ahead.

 

“Mum, this is a really lovely dinner. Excellent chicken.”

 

He was trying to calm her down to stop her from exploding at either of them.

 

His father smirked, a dangerous twinkle in his brown eyes. “Really? I think this chicken is rather dry.”

 

Augusta huffed. “I’m married to a child.”

 

“When did you get so uptight?”

 

Augusta had always been uptight. Her husband brought out the playful side of her, which was why their marriage worked. She was stern and she was strict but she had a loving nature that he adored.

 

“Here Frank Jr. sits, minding his own business because his parents have clearly lost their minds.”

 

“I thought you were on my side!” she shouted.

 

“I thought you said there were no sides,” Frank Sr. exclaimed.

 

She snarled, “This man you call your father said he had a _surprise_ for me in my handbag.”

 

Frank Sr. was quickly turning white as his wife began to recount the incident. He quietly grabbed for his glass of water and took a sip, avoiding the questioning eyes of his son.

 

“In my defense,” he said slowly, “I never said it was a good surprise.”

 

“Oh, Dad.”

 

Augusta ignored their interruptions and continued. “Do you want to know what his idea of a surprise was? It wasn’t a nice scarf, jewelry or even a new quill—“

 

“She has a drawer of quills. Why would I get her another quill? How unoriginal is that? I figured you’d appreciate something different.”

 

She stared at him quietly and pursed her lips.

 

“A gerbil.”

 

Frank Jr. gaped at his father. “Dad.”

 

“A _toy_ gerbil.”

 

“Toys do not bite you and leave droppings in your handbag!”

 

Her husband laughed with amusement. “A very realistic toy gerbil. Whatever happened to Theodore? I hope you’ve been feeding him.”

 

Augusta sighed and picked up her cutlery once more. “I’m married to a lunatic.”

 

“I could say the same thing.”

 

Augusta ignored him and set her sights on their son. “Frank, what is with this long hair? You look like a girl.”

 

Frank groaned because his mother’s favorite topic at dinnertime was always him.

 

“I think he looks hip,” Frank Sr. said with a shrug.

 

Augusta growled. “Hip? There’s nothing _hip_ about having to braid a man’s hair. They’re never going to take you seriously in the real world Frank. You’ve got to think about your future.”

 

As a sixth year his future was on her mind a lot. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise her son was no longer a child. Somewhere between the nappy changes, the bedtime stories and potty training he had grown into a man.

 

“Mum,” he said with an edge of annoyance in his voice, “this is in style.”

 

“I bet it’s a hit with the ladies.”

 

Frank Jr. stared at his father with a shocked expression on his face. “Dad, the only _woman_ I want to impress is Alice.”

 

At ‘woman’ Augusta involuntarily scrunched up her nose. Her son was in a relationship that was far too serious for her liking. Alice was a nice girl. She had met her several times throughout the years. First as his friend and then as the girl he fawned over once his hormones kicked in.

 

She was a nice girl but she was a _plain_ girl. Really what bothered her was that she was _a_ girl. Augusta wanted her son all to herself. She took great pride in being a mother. She wasn’t ready to let him go just yet.

 

“Pass the peas,” Augusta said gruffly.

 

Frank Sr. whistled. “Touchy subject when it comes to your mother. Her favorite son tied down to one woman.”

 

“I’m your only son.”

 

“That’s why I got her Theodore!”

 

Frank ignored his father as he tried to catch his mother’s eye.

 

“Mum, I really want you to like Alice.”

 

“I do.” She didn’t.

 

“I like Alice,” Frank Sr. said gruffly. “Doesn’t my opinion matter too?”

 

Frank sighed. Sometimes his parents were exasperating. “Of course it does. I want the both of you to like Alice. I mean…I am thinking about my future mum. I am. Especially with everything that’s going on.”

 

Augusta angrily spooned a handful of peas onto her plate. She didn’t like to talk about the current state of the world. There was a darkness brewing outside. People were going missing. Some were being killed. There were now curfews in place. She walked the streets with a worried head. Reading the papers made her feel uneasy but she knew her son was safe at Hogwarts. She worried less about him and more about her husband.

 

Lately he would go days without contacting her. As much as it pained her to admit he was getting too old to still be an Auror. When he did come home after a job he was often wheezing. He moved slowly around the house and had a questionable limp that she tried her hardest to ignore.

 

“You’re both so young,” Frank Sr. responded for her. He knew how touchy the subject was to his wife. “You have all the time in the world before you have to make any big commitments.”

 

“I love her,” Frank said quietly, staring straight at his parents.

 

Her breath hitched. Her son had never said that to her before. To actually hear him say the words made her feel incredibly old. Her husband quietly reached next to her and grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently.

 

In her eyes Frank Jr. was still the little boy who would crawl into his parents bed at night because his was afraid of the shadow of the oak tree that danced on his bedroom walls at night. It seemed no matter how hard she tried she could not stop time.

 

Being a wife and a mother was her identity. She wasn’t ready to give either title up just yet.

 

* * *

 

 

The silence was deafening. She had been trying to busy herself for the past few hours because the moment she stopped she knew everything would come crashing down on her at once. It still hadn’t quite hit her. Augusta was convinced the butterfly wind chime would start to sing as her husband opened the side door to enter the kitchen just like he always did after work.

 

Her heart ached as she glanced at the wooden kitchen door waiting for the knob to turn. Tears pricked her tired eyes and she placed her attention back on the kitchen sink. She turned on the tap and started to scrub the lone yellow plate that had been sitting there all morning.

 

“Mum?”

 

Augusta sighed at the voice of her son and turned off the water, dropping the plate back into the soapy water. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself as she heard him enter the kitchen. As she turned around her son was staring at her perplexed, black tie askew, the top three buttons to his crisp white shirt unbuttoned.

 

On a normal day she would have chastised him over his disheveled appearance but today was not a normal day.

 

“Finished packing already?”

 

Her son shook his head and took a seat at the kitchen table.

 

“I thought about it long and hard and I don’t have to go back,” he said quietly. He couldn’t meet her eyes as he spoke. “It’s just my seventh year. I don’t _need_ to go back. I already started training with…”

 

The rest of his sentence hung in the air thickly between them. Augusta quietly pulled out a chair opposite of him and wearily sat down. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she truly was. The entire day had been taxing on the both of them.

 

“Frank, you love Hogwarts. We could barely get you to shut up all summer about how excited you were to go back and see all of your friends.”

 

Frank dropped his head in his hands. “I’m not going to leave you here alone. Dad…”

 

Augusta felt a thickness in her throat. She swallowed and counted to ten in her head. She wasn’t prepared to cry in front of her son. She had to remain strong for him. She might have lost her husband but she was still a mother. Being a mother meant putting your child first no matter the situation.

 

“Frank,” she said softly, “I’m going to be fine on my own.”

 

He shook his head in protest, tears falling from dark eyes. “He wouldn’t want me to leave you alone. There’s no one here to protect you and the war—“

 

She reached across the table and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently.

 

“Frank Longbottom you listen to me. This is not up for debate. I am not a feeble old woman. You think you’re the only one your father taught some things too? Why I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve!”

 

He couldn’t help but laugh. Augusta Longbottom might have been in mourning. She might have felt completely broken down but she still had a spirit to her. She was still strong.

 

“It’s only a few months,” she said, trying to reassure him. “I’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone. As long as I know you’re safe I’ll be fine.”

 

Frank sighed and squeezed her hand lovingly. As long as she had her son she would never be truly alone, no matter how near or far he was.

 

They did after all have a lifetime to spend together.

 

* * *

 

There was a loud knock against the front door. Augusta Longbottom, wearing magenta colored robes, struggled to get up from the floor she was kneeling on with her grandson.

 

As she walked slowly towards the door she pulled her wand out from her robe pocket. Augusta looked through the peephole with a calculated brown eye and grumbled obscenities to herself as she finally opened the door, wand at the ready.

 

She pointed it first to the man on the left who looked like he had seen better days. His hair was disheveled and his black t-shirt was torn.

 

“State your name and the gift I gave you for your eleventh birthday,” she said shrilly.

 

“Frank Longbottom,” he responded with a lopsided grin. “You gave me a book about my…err…growing body.” His cheeks reddened slightly.

 

She said nothing as she pointed her wand to the woman standing next to him.

 

“State your name, relation to me and the first thing I said to you during our first family dinner.”

 

The woman rolled her blue eyes but answered, “Alice Longbottom, daughter-in-law, and Augusta dear you said and I quote, ‘You have wide hips, excellent for birthing but if you think you’re going to get a litter out of my son you’re sorely mistaken.”

 

Augusta pursed her lips at the smiling blonde standing before her. She made no moves to lower her wand.

 

“Come on mum,” Frank said, annoyed. “She answered correctly and didn’t we have his conversation the last time? You’re supposed to ask us the questions _before_ you open the door.”

 

She ignored him. “It’s that sass of hers she’s giving me. I’m trying to figure out what to do with it and enough about these damn precautionary methods.”

 

Alice laughed loudly. “Hello to you too Augusta. I’ve missed you.” She pushed gently past her and walked inside the house without care.

 

“It’s Mrs. Longbottom to you, Alice.”

 

Frank groaned. His mother and his wife were going to be the death of him. They had this endless back and forth banter that made his head spin. Some days he was certain his mother liked her while others he was sure she merely tolerated Alice.

 

“One minute in and you’re already causing trouble. Mum, be nice to Alice. Now, where is our son?”

 

Augusta crossed her arms against her chest and gave Frank a calculated look.

 

“I’m always nice to Alice. Wide hips were a compliment.”

 

“A really great one at that. There’s my butterball!” Alice shouted, finally spotting their son, Neville, who was lying on his back on the floor.

 

Augusta couldn’t help but smile as she watched her son and daughter-in-law coo over their son. Moments like this were rare.

 

“So thin,” she said finally as Alice kissed Neville’s cheek for the fourth time in a row. “If you can find the time to fight Death Eaters you can find the time to eat.”

 

“Mum, we only have a few hours,” Frank replied. “We’ve got to go back to work.”

 

Augusta gaped at him. She made a lot of quips but she hadn’t seen her son in a little over two weeks.

 

“Nonsense. We’re going to have a family dinner. Skin and bones you lot. How do they expect you to power through? I have half a mind to contact Alastor—“

 

Frank snorted. “Now that’s something I would like to see. I think you’d win that fight.”

 

“Of course I would,” but as she said it her attention wasn’t on her son. Neville was feebly reaching out trying to touch the brim of Alice’s brown hat. Augusta had let it slide momentarily because she was too excited and distracted by their return but she had strict rules and wearing hats inside the house was one of them.

 

“Alice Longbottom,” she said sternly, “you take that hat off of your head this instant!”

 

The couple stared at each other as if they were in deep trouble. Alice slowly touched the brim of her cap, eyeing Augusta woefully.

 

“Mum, before you go off—“

 

“Your hair!” she screeched as Alice removed the cap. “Your beautiful long brown hair.”

 

Alice gave her a sheepish look. “Frank likes it.”

 

Frank glared at his wife while his mother rounded on him, fuming. “You encouraged my daughter to cut her hair like a little boy.”

 

“It’s all the rage. Besides, she’s so bony she passes off as one of the guys. Extremely useful in the field.”

 

Alice shot him a sharp look. “It’s easier upkeep when we’ve been patrolling for days. I don’t have to worry about showering,” she explained.

 

“But doesn’t your neck get cold?” Augusta asked worriedly.

 

Frank sighed and grabbed Neville from Alice, holding his son tightly to his chest. Since becoming a parent he now understood why his mother was so high strung. His mother was a strong woman. She had to be. After his father died it was up to her to be twice the parent. She was the sole advisor in his life. He just hoped he didn’t turn into her with her nit picking as he aged.

 

“Neville, your Gran is losing her mind. Yes she is, you take care of her for us, alright? Can you do that big boy?”

 

Neville drooled in response.

 

“What did I tell you about this _gran_ nonsense. I’m his _grandmother_.”

 

Gran sounded wild and unruly. A grandmother baked cookies with her grandchild and patted their head like a dog when they did their first bit of magic.

 

“You’re too young to be a grandmother. Gran is hip.”

 

“Well,” she mumbled more to herself than anyone else, “if you would have kept it in your trousers…”

 

Frank turned a dark shade of red and gaped at his mother, trying to prepare himself for a comeback.

 

“Frank, stop it,” Alice said in warning. “Augusta, we are actually very hungry.”

 

At ‘hungry’ her ears perked up. “And this is why we’re having a family dinner. Go wash up dear and take Neville with you. It’ll do him some good to be around his parents, which would be the respectable—“

 

But they didn’t hear what she had to say because the two rushed off quickly towards their bedroom.

 

Augusta hummed to herself as she walked towards the kitchen. She was brimming with excitement. She would get to make dinner for her kids, all three of them. To her an empty house was a sin, an eyesore. It could be horribly depressing but a full house put her in a good mood.

 

* * *

 

 

A respectable family dinner was all she asked for but her desires were quickly shattered. Alice couldn’t cook and somehow managed to burn the beans even with the assistance of magic and Augusta shrilly telling her what she was doing wrong.

 

With cooking, her wardrobe and life choices.

 

Frank had the task of feeding Neville who refused to eat his pureed butternut squash and peas, spitting them out while Augusta tutted from the stove.

 

The three Longbottom’s were in a mood as they sat at the table, quietly eating a dry meatloaf and questionable potatoes.

 

“Family dinner means there has to be some sort of conversation. Come on, tell me what you’ve been up to.”

 

The war was a sensitive subject for Augusta. She had half a mind to lock up her son in his room and throw away the key once he finished his Auror training. While she was proud he was following in his father’s footsteps and making a name for himself there was a madman who was out there murdering people at random. His followers did not discriminate between one person or the other. There was no sense of safety in the world.

 

“To be honest things are getting worse,” Frank said, woefully. “We really don’t know when we’ll be by again.”

 

Augusta placed her fork down and tried to steady her ragged breathing.

 

“What in heavens do you mean?”

 

Alice averted her eyes as she spoke. “We’re going on another mission,” she said sadly. “We’re not sure when it ends—“

 

The heat was rising in her cheeks as she started to yell at the both of them. “You have a child. This is ridiculous. You’re out there protecting others while your child—“

 

“Is safe here with you. We’re trying to make it a better place so _our_ child will not have to worry like we have to,” Alice shouted back. “The parks are empty. The streets are empty. Halloween is coming and we can’t even celebrate it or blend in with the Muggles as magical folk. Everyone is in danger.”

 

“You act like we’re prisoners. We get the shopping done together Neville and I. Isn’t that right Neville? And we…well…”

 

In truth they spent most of their time indoors. Augusta couldn’t remember the last time she took her grandson out for an afternoon stroll. She was wary of the outside and knew she was a target because her son and daughter-in-law were Aurors.

 

“We’re not trying to scare you. This is just the reality,” Frank said softly.

 

Anger bubbled up inside of her. She was supposed to be worrying about them. She was the head of the household. Though she appreciated their concern she was a grown woman who could take care of herself.

 

“I am not scared,” she shouted, banging her fist on the table. Neville started to cry from the sound. It took a lot of shushing from his father to quiet the little boy down. “I am worried and upset. I never know where you are or what you’re up to. I can’t even read the damn paper to know what’s going on in the world. It’s filled with lies.”

 

“His numbers are growing and ours are dwindling,” Alice admitted, taking a big bite out of her meatloaf. “We’ve been going on extra patrols but we’re alright.”

 

“Alright?” Her eyes flitted from Frank to Alice. They looked exhausted and worse for the wear. Her children were aging before her eyes. She truly believed she looked younger than them. Frank was already turning grey and Alice had deep wrinkles in her young face. “You’ve nearly dropped two stone and you’re wearing shabby robes. You’re tired. Don’t tell me you’re not tired.”

 

“We are but you have to understand,” Frank said, trying to reason with her.

 

“I do understand,” she said, giving Frank a hard look. “However, I can’t help but worry about my children.”

 

“But we’re not children!” he shouted, angrily pushing his plate away. “We’re adults! I am a grown man.”

 

“Do not raise your voice at me boy. You’re definitely acting like a child right now,” she shot back.

 

“Frank,” Alice said with warning. He sighed, suddenly completely irritated and placed his napkin on the table, appetite gone. “I understand Augusta. All we can do is apologize and eat your delicious food as penance.”

 

“With no help from you.”

 

Alice popped a piece of potato into her mouth and shrugged her shoulders. “What? I grew up with a house elf—“

 

“Pure laziness,” Augusta chastised, a sudden twinkle in her eyes. They were back in their familiar routine. The witty banter back and forth, the arguing that sometimes drove her son crazy.

 

“You’re insulting a woman that saved thirty Muggles a week ago all with the flick of her wand.”

 

Alice gave Frank a bemused look. They shared a smile that wasn’t lost on Augusta. If she didn’t know any better she would have been convinced Alice would come back next time pregnant with her second child.

 

“Really?” she questioned with mock surprise. “Even in your fragile state sans hair.”

 

Frank snorted and a ghost of a smile appeared on Augusta’s lips while Alice glowered at her.

 

“Yes, well. Oh, Frank, give her her gift.”

 

Frank jumped up from excitement in his chair and pulled out a small box from his pocket. Next, he pulled out his wand and tapped the top of the box. Neville watched in wonder next to his father and clapped his hands in delight as the box grew in size.

 

“You’re going to love this Mum. Forgot all about it.”

 

Augusta braced herself as she grabbed the box from her son. He had unfortunately inherited his fathers’ penchant for gag gifts and surprises. She eyed the purple box with displeasure and then removed the top in one quick motion.

 

“What in the world?”

 

It was some sort of hideous grey hat with an equally hideous bird perched on top of it. She didn’t bother taking it out of the box for fear it would nip her hand.

 

“It’s a vulture hat!” Frank shouted with excitement. “Thought it would fit you perfectly. We were hiding out in this little boutique and spotted this gem. Don’t you love it?”

 

For once in her life Augusta was at a loss for words.

 

“I might wear magenta robes but I do not wear stuffed birds on my head,” she said hotly.

 

Frank ignored her comment and rose from his chair, walking over to her and pulling the hat out of the box. He examined it like it was some sort of lost treasure.

 

“Come off it. You’re always wearing those colorful hats of yours. This’ll spice up your outfit. Look, even Neville likes it.”

 

Sitting up in his high chair Neville placed his hands on his eyes in terror while Alice laughed loudly clearly bemused and in on the joke.

 

“I ought to poison your food Frank Longbottom.”

 

She made no motion to take the hat off as Frank sat back down in his chair.

 

“This hat is sure to keep all the Death Eaters at bay.”

 

Augusta pointed a frail finger at her son. “Careful Frank, I’ll spank you over my knee. You’re still young enough. Do not test me.”

 

Alice beamed and quietly ate her meatloaf.

 

* * *

 

 

Three weeks and two days later there was a knock at the front door once again. Augusta shushed Neville as he gurgled on the floor and clapped his hands as a little toy dragon puttered around him, spitting out a cool fire.

 

She felt excitement course through her veins. She was starting to go stir crazy inside her house. As much as she loved to heckle Frank and Alice she felt incredibly lonely since her main source of entertainment and companion was her grandson.

 

Augusta rushed towards the front door and then paused as an after thought. She took a small detour to the broom cupboard and rummaged around for the large purple hatbox that housed her hideous vulture hat. If the sight of her having it on didn’t amuse Frank and Alice she wasn’t sure what would.

 

She plopped it on her head even though it clashed horribly with her emerald green nightgown and peered into the peephole. Her mischievous grin instantly vanished as she saw who was on the other side of the door.

 

Augusta reached for the brass doorknob with a trembling hand. The door opened a crack and a wand was rudely shoved in her face.

 

“State your name and the first thing you said to me when we met,” the voice said gruffly.

 

Augusta gulped. “Augusta Longbottom and what kind of name is Moody? Now, what’s wrong?” she questioned, forgetting protocol. “What are you doing here?”

 

Alastor Moody wasn’t exactly a regular visitor. The man knew how to ruffle her feathers whenever they came into contact.

 

“Augusta,” he said harshly, “even in times of trouble you must go through with the proper procedures. Do not make me hex you.”

 

Augusta rolled her eyes. If he dared hex her in her own house she would have his head. “Your name,” she said hotly, “and what you swore you would do for me.”

 

“Alastor Moody and I swore I would protect your children. Move over.”

 

He stared at her somberly, dropped his wand, and pushed past her. His eyes instantly fell on Neville who was still laughing on the floor by himself.

 

Augusta watched as Alastor began walking around her living room. He touched the walls and waved his wand as if he was inspecting to see if there was anyone else there.

 

“I’ll ask again. What are you doing here?”

 

“Augusta, I failed.”

 

She couldn’t wrap her head around what he was saying. He was still moving a mile a minute through her home, touching every object in sight.

 

“What happened to your eye and are you _missing_ a piece of your nose?”

 

“It’s gone,” he said it as if it there wasn’t anything more to the story.

 

She unconsciously fingered the brim of her hat. Her nerves were starting to get the best of her.

 

“What happened?”

 

It was very rare Alastor Moody wore a somber expression. He was terribly grumpy but she liked him well enough because he was well respected and cared for her son.

 

“The others wanted to come but your boy, I think this is what he would have wanted.”

 

Augusta stared at the Auror quietly. She couldn’t move from her spot. If she moved she knew she would fall to the ground. She was certain her heart had stopped beating inside her chest.

 

“F-Frank?” Her voice felt foreign to her ears. She had never muttered her sons name with such hollowness before. Augusta felt like she was suddenly having a very bad dream and she desperately wanted to wake up from it.

 

“They were tortured by Death Eaters. The worst lot. Augusta, war has many casualties. They were fine Aurors.”

 

Alastor did not apologize though it was written on his tired face. Augusta could barely comprehend what he said next. It was not safe to visit them at St. Mungo’s, not yet. She found she couldn’t argue with him. She wondered if she would ever be able to speak again. He left as quickly as he came, as if the lives of her children weren’t worth more than a quick visit.

 

Augusta slowly walked back into the living room where Neville was playing. He was unaware his entire world had just been shattered. She sat down and rubbed his back as his little dragon puttered on the ground.

 

Neville looked up at her with a big smile, blue eyes bright and filled with childlike wonder.

 

From now on it would be the two of them. Augusta squeezed her grandson closely to her body and then touched the brim of her hat as silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

 

“Gran will always protect you,” she whispered.

 

It was more for her sake than his.

 

* * *

 

 

The visitors were far and few in-between. No one wanted to talk to her about Frank or mention Alice. Whenever she went outside and came across old friends they crossed the street. Those brave enough blubbered on with apologies. They were _sorry_. They acted like Frank and Alice were buried six feet under.

 

Though Augusta did feel a heavy sense of grief. She didn’t have time to weep or breakdown over her children because raising a baby at her age was proving to be a difficult task itself. She wanted Neville to feel a sense of normalcy, which was why she bit her tongue whenever anyone tried to offer their condolences.

 

At the moment this was proving to be extremely difficult. Augusta had sworn to herself she would be on her best behavior for Neville’s second birthday party. Even though her house was filled with people she didn’t quite care for.

 

The kids were running around outside in the sunshine with Frank Sr.’s remaining living relative, his brother, Algie. Algie turned out to be both a blessing and a curse. He doted on Neville but was always in Augusta’s ear that the boy didn’t seem to have any magical capabilities.

 

Augusta sat down to join the other parents on the sidelines outside. Being a good hostess meant mingling with her guests even when she didn’t want too.

 

At the sight of her, Algie stopped his running around and walked towards her. Sometimes he resembled his older brother so much Augusta found herself holding her breath. They had the same stature, the same eyes and the same foolish tendencies.

 

“Auggie, this really is a wonderful party. Neville seems to be enjoying himself. That little girl over there tried to kiss him.”

 

Augusta’s cheeks turned pink and she gave Algie an incredulous look.

 

“Algiers,” he cringed at his full name, “don’t you start.”

 

He whistled innocently and pointed to another parent, asking them to keep an eye on Neville while he pushed Augusta back inside the house. The moment they reached her sunshine yellow kitchen he turned on her and gave her a serious look.

 

“Those parents…they’re all abysmal.”

 

Augusta laughed in surprise. “Welcome to my world.”

 

Algie shook his bald head. “I mean the Cunningham’s have got to be the worst out of the entire lot. The wife had the audacity to come up to me. Oh Algie, so sorry for your loss. Yes, yes, you have to hold on to hope that one day Frank and Alice will have a break through.”

 

She said nothing and turned away from him, trying to busy herself by cleaning up the kitchen table.

 

“I mean really, what nonsense,” he said, prattling on, “my niece and nephew fought the good fight. They’re Heros. They’re the reason their little brats are safe.”

 

Augusta sighed and gripped the nearest dishrag in frustration. Algie was extremely sensitive and could not keep his cool when it came to Frank and Alice. He talked about them like they were upstairs or at work or just _around_.

 

“Will you give me a hand cleaning up? The quicker we get the cake out the quicker they leave.”

 

Algie gave her a hard look but said nothing. He lazily swished his wand around, dropping empty cups and half eaten food in the rubbish bin.

 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked quietly. “Are you alright?”

 

Augusta paused and dropped the dishrag she was holding. She had been focusing on wiping the kitchen table clean for the past ten minutes.

 

“I’m fine.” Her voice cracked slightly and she felt a wave of emotion bubbling inside her chest.

 

He sighed and walked over to her, grabbing the dishrag from her.

 

“Augusta, it’s okay to talk about it. It’s okay to ask for help.”

 

She grabbed the rag from him and shook her head. “I don’t need help. I’ve already raised a son. I know what I’m doing. I know how to do all of this. Plan the birthdays and be nice to the parents. I’ve done it once before,” she spat at him viciously.

 

His face softened. “I’m here for you.”

 

Augusta brushed him off. She couldn’t quite admit out loud that she wasn’t sure at her age if she could handle it. She felt tired all of the time. Neville was a demanding child. He was quiet but he was constantly bumping into things and bruising himself. He had a different stamina compared to Frank. She was filled with constant self-doubt and worry that she was doing everything all wrong and there was no one around to help quell her fears.

 

It was at night when Neville was tucked in his bed that she let the tears flow freely.

 

“Let’s just cut the cake, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

 

A breeze rolled through the kitchen window as Augusta placed a lemon pie on the table. She pulled out a wooden chair and tiredly took a seat across from her neighbor, Griselda. They had known each other for years but it wasn’t until Griselda’s husband had past away a year ago that they reconnected.

 

Augusta found shared grief could bring you closer to somebody.

 

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” The tiny witch asked, polishing her glasses.

 

“There’s no way he can’t not be magical, can there?” Augusta asked worriedly. Her grandson was the hot topic in her household. At eight, Neville still hadn’t shown any sign of magical abilities.

 

She felt she had failed once again as a parent. Her grandson was a surely going to be a squib. Just thinking about it made her heart ache. It didn’t help that Neville knew his family thought he was different. He was afraid come eleven he’d never get his Hogwarts letter. She had found letters hidden underneath his mattress in his childish scribble asking the headmaster to accept him.

 

Griselda tutted. “Maybe we have to come to terms with the fact he might not be magical. There’s no shame in raising a squib.”

 

Augusta felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Griselda knew it was a sensitive subject but the old witch was never one for subtlety.

 

“Nonsense,” Augusta argued, as always. “He comes from a long line of—“

 

Griselda raised a wrinkled hand to silence her. “Just think of the life he could lead. No one will know who he is.”

 

“Except everyone in the magical world like know. Neville is _special_.”

 

“Of course,” Griselda agreed.

 

“His parents—“ A loud familiar yell caused Augusta to stop. The two old women jumped out of their seats and stared at each other perplexed.

 

“ _GRAN!”_

At his second cry Augusta ran out of the kitchen as quickly as she could. Panic coursed through her veins as she hurried up the staircase to the second floor of her home with Griselda at her heels.

 

“ _HE’S GONE MAD! GRAN! HELP ME!”_

Augusta whipped her wand out from her robe pocket and burst through Neville’s bedroom door. Algie was dangling the small boy out the window with a wicked grin on his face. Outside, Griselda’s grandson and granddaughter were on the ground hooping and hollering.

 

Rage filled Augusta and she growled loudly, wand in the air, ready to hex Algie into another lifetime. He turned red as he noticed her but his grin didn’t leave his face.

 

_“GRAN!”_

“Algie, what the hell do you think you’re doing!” Griselda shouted for her.

 

Augusta was seeing red. They were going to have to lock her up in Azkaban and throw away the key because she was about to murder her brother-in-law.

 

“Neville said he wanted to try his hand at flying. Fly Neville, _fly_!”

 

Augusta screamed at the top of her lungs, matching the wail of her grandson, as Algie released him. She felt Griselda grab her by the shoulders and push her towards the window. The three of them peered out the window in a trance, waiting for Neville to meet his end.

 

Tears were falling freely down her face as Augusta steadied herself for the crash but it never came. Algie gasped next to her as Neville bounced rather ungracefully to the ground.

 

The other children cheered as Neville shakily got up from the ground.

 

“Did he just—“ Griselda couldn’t finish her question. A large smile appeared on her wrinkled face. On her left, Augusta felt Algie’s large arms wrap around her body.

 

“ _He did! He did!_ ” He shouted with excitement.

 

Augusta was reeling. She was trying to figure out how to breathe because she was sure she wasn’t doing it properly. She gaped at her grandson from the bedroom window. Neville was crying from the ground while Griselda’s granddaughter patted his back trying to calm him down.

 

At once, Augusta came back to her senses. She popped her head out further through the window and shouted, “ _Neville!_ You just did magic! I’ve never been more proud!”

 

Neville wiped at his chubby cheeks with his fist and nervously smiled at his grandmother from the ground, unsure of himself.

 

Augusta’s heart swelled. Maybe she was doing something right after all.

 

* * *

 

 

After all these years if you asked Augusta Longbottom what her favorite time of day was she would have easily told you dinner. Tonight, dinner was especially important because it would be the last one she would be having with her grandson until the holiday season. Her Neville was off to Hogwarts tomorrow.

 

Augusta watched her grandson, perplexed. He had been in a sour mood the entire day. She was surprised since he had spent the entire summer asking her question after question about Hogwarts. Though Augusta gave him vague answers as to not spoil the magic of the castle.

 

Neville pushed his mashed potatoes around with his fork. He hadn’t even touched his food.

 

“Do I have to go to Hogwarts tomorrow?” he asked quietly.

 

Augusta shot a look towards her brother-in-law who was happily chewing on a piece of turkey.

 

“What kind of question is that? Of course you have to go! What are you going to do without an education?”

 

Neville shrugged. “I’m not much of a wizard.”

 

Augusta couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Not much of a wizard? He came from a long line of accomplished witches and wizards. She talked to him about his parents and the many nights they sacrificed to keep him safe.

 

“You, Neville, are going to be an amazing wizard.” She looked at Algie for some words of encouragement but he just shrugged and kept happily eating his food.

 

“How do you know?” Neville asked, a doubtful look on his round face.

 

“Because I’m your Gran. I know everything. What’s the matter? Did Uncle Algie say something to you?”

 

At his name, Algie perked up. He dropped his fork and knife and placed his attention on Neville.

 

“No. He said Hogwarts is the greatest place in the world.”

 

Augusta couldn’t help but turn her nose at ‘greatest.’ “I don’t know about the greatest. I think I have quite the castle here.”

 

Neville and Algie snorted and she glared at them.

 

“Gran, what if the other kids…what if they say something about me?”

 

“Like what?” she asked briskly.

 

“About my parents.”

 

At first Augusta said nothing. She dropped her utensils she hadn’t actually been using and took a few moments to collect herself. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

 

“Well, Neville, are you ashamed of your parents?”

 

At this Neville blanched. “No. I just—“

 

“Your parents fought to give you a better life. If someone has something to say about them that’s what you say. You must wear the Longbottom name proudly.”

 

Neville gave his grandmother an uneasy look. Her answer wasn’t exactly comforting.

 

Breaking his silence, Algie coughed loudly. “What’s with this serious conversation? This is a happy time!” he exclaimed. “Your parents are proud! Of that I am sure. Plus, I got you a little gift. Why I remember when your father was headed to Hogwarts. Happiest day of his life.”

 

Augusta glowered as Neville seemed to perk up thanks to his uncle. She fed him. She clothed him. She cared for him and this was how he repaid her? By listening to a bald fat man.

 

“And do you know why it was the best day of his life? Because he had a pet with him. An instant friend! Always there whenever he got lonely.”

 

Augusta gave Algie a sharp look while Neville clapped his hands in excitement. She already had this conversation with her grandson. He wasn’t getting an owl or a cat or anything else that required someone to look after it. Neville could barely take care of himself.

 

“Algiers, you have better not gotten this boy an animal. He can barely stand upright half the time!”

 

Algie ignored her and reached underneath the table.

 

Neville sat on the edge of his seat as his Uncle presented him with a tiny box that had holes in it.

 

“Tut, tut Augusta! This boy you’re coddling is really a man and men deserve grand gestures. Remove the lid, Neville.”

 

Neville did as he was told. His blue eyes opened wide as saucers as he peered into the box.

 

“It’s a…”

 

“It’s a toad!” Algie said with excitement.

 

Augusta dropped her head into her hands. “Oh good lord.”

 

The toad stuck out its tongue, making Neville laugh.

 

“I think I’ll name him Trevor.”

 

* * *

 

 

Wearing velvet green robes, Augusta knocked lightly on the door to Frank and Alice’s room. She always knocked, a habit she hadn’t quite gotten rid of, because her son used to get offended if she just barged into his room.

 

A Healer was brushing Frank’s salt-and-pepper hair as she walked in. She shooed her away, taking over for her. His hair was getting much too long but it was always a project getting him to sit still long enough to get it cut.

 

Augusta tenderly brushed his hair back.

 

“Tonight, Neville is going to the Yule Ball. Can you believe it Frank? Your son is going to waltz with a young lady. I sent him some smart dress robes. I’m sure you would hate them. You’d say something like my fashion taste is outdated,” she said with a slight chuckle.

 

Frank didn’t move. His facial expression didn’t change as she talked. He looked like he always did, in another world, which made Augusta sigh in disappointment.

 

The Healers were convinced Frank and Alice couldn’t understand anything that was said to them but it didn’t mean after all these years she would stop treating them like they weren’t people.

 

She didn’t like to sit in silence or stare at her once active children. When Neville visited them with her she made sure to keep her emotions at bay. When she was alone she felt like she could drop her façade and once again be a mother to her son.

 

She tenderly kissed Frank’s forehead.

 

“He promised to send me a photo. I’ll show it to you and Alice the next time I’m here. I can’t wait to hear what you have to say about it.”

 

Augusta would never stop waiting for a response.

 

* * *

 

 

Augusta slammed the side door to her home with a great deal of annoyance. She was carrying two bags of groceries and had been muttering angrily to herself on her entire walk home. She dropped the groceries on the kitchen table and prodded her grandson who was reading at the table to put them away.

 

“Can’t even go outside at night anymore. Unbelievable!” she bellowed more to herself than anyone else. “It’s just like before.”

 

Neville said nothing but watched her as she started to pull out pots and pans, banging each one she touched. The door to the kitchen opened once again, startling him. His Uncle waddled in with an angry expression on his face, struggling with a brown bag of groceries in his arms.

 

“Thank you dear, for leaving me in the lurch. Neville, your grandmother asks me to do the shopping with her and just disappears. I’m at the market like a fool asking people, have you seen Augusta? She’s hard to miss. She’s the one in the vulture hat!”

 

Neville stared blankly at his Uncle. “She seems upset,” he said dumbly.

 

Augusta turned around to face the two of them, red in the face. “Because this man thinks I can’t take care of myself!”

 

Algie dropped his grocery bag. A rogue apple fell out of the bag and rolled onto the kitchen floor.

 

“Neville, you tell your grandmother all I suggested was that the two of you come stay with me.”

 

She threw her hands up in the air in fury. “You listen here Algie, I’ve never needed anyone to take care of. I sure as hell don’t need someone to start now! I survived when Frank, bless his soul, had to work late nights or got stuck on his way home if there was a raid.”

 

Neville stood at the kitchen table perplexed. He didn’t want to move, afraid his grandmother would go off on him next. His Uncle and grandmother had quite the tumultuous relationship. It was best not to take sides.

 

“Augusta,” Algie said with exasperation, “the shops are a ghost town.”

 

“As long as I can get the essentials it’s fine. I can manage!”

 

Augusta suddenly felt like she was experiencing a case of déjà vu. She was having the same argument she had had with her son and her husband years before. Except this time they weren’t there to protect her from the outside world. Augusta had to protect herself.

 

“You’re old,” Algie said hotly.

 

“And what are you?”

 

He crossed his arms against his large chest. “I’m in my prime.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Do not make me come over there and rip that ridiculous toupee off your head.”

 

A hand instantly flew to the top of his head. He had been sporting a brown toupee for the past five years in order to make himself appear younger. To Augusta it looked like he had a dirty mop on his head.

 

Neville coughed and raised his hand as if he was in school and wanted to answer a question or be heard. “I think he’s right.”

 

Augusta and Algie both rounded on him; a fire danced in her eyes.

 

“Oh, when did I ask you for your opinion? The boy who can’t even remember to pick up his own socks.”

 

Neville bit the bottom of his lip but didn’t back down from the conversation.

 

“Gran, I don’t like the idea of you here alone.”

 

If Augusta wasn’t so annoyed she would have found her grandson worrying about her endearing.

 

“I’m not alone. I have you.”

 

Neville shook his head in protest. “I go back to Hogwarts in a few days.”

 

At ‘Hogwarts’ Algie shouted in outrage, “I think not! Neville my boy, Hogwarts isn’t safe.”

 

Frustrated, Neville pushed in his chair and walked around the kitchen table to stand by his grandmother.

 

“Hogwarts is the safest place in the world. You’ve both said it time and time again.”

 

From his spot by the door, Algie gave Augusta a knowing look. Hogwarts, she knew, should have logically been out of the question. Albus Dumbledore had been murdered the year before. Hogwarts was once a sanctuary. Now, Augusta was sure it would be polluted by evil. Her grandson would be a sitting duck if he went back.

 

“Neville,” she said slowly, trying to pick out her words carefully, “while I think your education is important—“

 

“Gran, this isn’t about my education. This is about what’s right.”

 

Augusta found it difficult to argue with him. As he had grown she found he had that same fire inside of him just like his father and mother. Neville wasn’t one to back down from a fight. He had proved he was stronger and a hell of a lot more capable than everyone gave him credit for.

 

“Watch your tone boy. Remember who you’re talking to.”

 

His cheeks flushed. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

 

“This shouldn’t even be up for discussion. Think of all the trouble you’ve gotten in. Do you think you’ll fair well once you head back to school?” Algie asked logically.

 

“School isn’t optional,” Neville said with annoyance. “They sent a letter.”

 

“So we run.”

 

Augusta gaped at Algie. She couldn’t believe he would even bring that up as a suggestion. He knew better than her what it was like at the front lines. He had fought alongside his brother during the beginning of the war. They had gone on countless of missions together.

 

“Longbottom’s don’t run,” she said matter-of-factly.

 

Algie sighed, perplexed. “Augusta, while I understand the sentiment behind that statement I think it’s prudent—“

 

“I think it’s prudent that you shut your mouth,” she snapped. Neville and Algie both jumped at her words. No matter how much they fought she was never short with her brother-in-law. “Honestly Algie, while I may value your opinion I have the final say.”

 

Neville pumped his fist in the air. “Tell him Gran.”

 

She smacked the back of Neville’s head hard. “Do not sass me young man. Another word out of line and I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.”

 

Neville was about to respond to his grandmother but he was pulled from his thoughts as the front door slammed shut. Algie was no longer standing in their kitchen. He wondered momentarily if this would be the last time he would see his Uncle.

 

“Don’t worry about him,” Augusta said at the worried expression on his face. “He’ll come around. He always does. I believe you can make the right choices and you’ll do some good. That’s the only reason I’m letting you go back to Hogwarts.”

 

Neville nodded under her gaze. “So, we’re fighting.”

 

Augusta placed a frail hand on his shoulder and squeezed it tightly. “Not fighting isn’t really an option. Now, just because we’re involved in a war doesn’t mean you just throw everything in your trunk. Your grandfather wore freshly pressed trousers in the field.”

 

Neville groaned and removed himself from her grip. He wondered if she would ever let up. He went back to the groceries that were on the table and started to put them away in their respective spots.

 

Augusta turned away from him and tried to steady her nerves. She closed her eyes and inhaled and exhaled multiple times. There was a storm brewing. She could feel it in her weary bones. The war her children and husband fought in had never really ended. She was unsure if she would live to see the day when a final battle would take place but knew she was ready to take their place in the fight.

 

-X-

 

_Gran,_

_They’re coming for you. Run._

* * *

 

 

Augusta wiped at her sweaty brow with her napkin. Her house was unusually hot. The temperature had risen rather dramatically the past few days. She was hoping it would break soon and a breeze would roll by. Though one did not the butterfly wind chime that was hanging by her kitchen window tinkled loudly.

 

Griselda arched her eyebrow and gave her friend a calculated look.

 

“It seems we have company.”

 

Augusta shrugged. She had received Neville’s letter three days ago. His handwriting appeared frantic. He had been in such a rush to get his message to her he hadn’t even signed his name. Though Augusta had realized before his warning that something was not quite right.

 

She felt a constant presence around her. When she went on her walk during the day the trees would rustle. She swore she had seen a pair of eyes following her as she walked into St. Mungo’s. Logically she knew her house would be a target but she wasn’t prepared to leave it without a fight.

 

Once she told Griselda about the letter the other witch refused to leave her side. Augusta figured one by her side was better than none.

 

“If they were smart they would let me finish my tea. Poor manners,” she said with a laugh.

 

Griselda didn’t have a chance to respond. A spark flew in the air and hit the vulture that was sitting on Augusta’s hat. It drooped slightly to the right as she patted the poor singed bird.

 

Augusta felt a fire rise in her belly. She reached with her right hand into the pocket of her grey dressrobes and fingered her wand. With her left hand she raised her teacup and took a small sip.

 

“Oh dear,” Griselda said quietly.

 

Augusta’s eyes darkened as friend gave her a somber look.

 

“Oh dear, indeed,” she said loudly. “That was a very moronic thing to do.”

 

She was after all very attached to her hat.

 

* * *

 

 

_Dear Neville,_

_I might not be a spring chicken but that intruder of mine really didn’t put up much of a fight. He barreled in and broke my favorite teacup when he entered the kitchen. You know how I feel about my fine china. A simple spell pieced it back together but what can I say? He had such poor manners I had to teach him a lesson._

_Don’t worry about me. We’ll see each other soon._

_With love,_

_Gran_

_PS – Griselda is fine but the fight wore her out. She is after all three months older than I; much too old to be in the center of all this nonsense. She’s off to stay with Uncle Algie. If anyone can convince him to get rid of that ridiculous toupee it’s her._

* * *

 

 

The destruction was overwhelming. Hogwarts looked like it was ready to crumble to the ground. Augusta rushed through the corridors, dodging spells and passing students, her vulture hat bobbing to and fro and as she ran.

 

A flash of green jetted past her and she jumped back, clutching her red handbag to her chest. Augusta hurried off, pointing her wand in the direction of a masked man who was terrorizing a student, knocking him out cold.

 

She didn’t have time to stop and check on the boy who had already started to run off in the direction she had come from.

 

Augusta’s nerves were at an all time high. Her heart was beating like a woodpecker inside of her chest. If she hadn’t been paying attention she wouldn’t have noticed the faint lightning bolt scar on the forehead of Harry Potter.

 

He looked worse for the wear. He was panting and already had cuts on his face and his shirt appeared like it had seen better days. Augusta shuffled quickly towards him, side stepping past a trio of duelers.

 

“Have you seen my grandson?” she asked in a hurried tone.

 

Harry Potter’s green eyes gazed at her in wonder momentarily before he responded, “He’s fighting!” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 

Augusta hurriedly bid him farewell as someone crashed into her frail body. She yelped but steadied herself as best as she could to keep herself from falling. She turned around and raised her wand, a grim look on her face as she prepared to fight.

 

She could see Minerva in the far corner of the room, swishing her wand in the air and Molly Weasley on the other lost in a sea of redheads surrounding her. A hex shot out of Augusta’s wand and she felt a sudden rush of power coursing through her.

 

She was ready to fight any and all Death Eaters if it brought her closer to her grandson.

 

* * *

 

 

Molly was screaming. Her cries were so loud Augusta was sure if she got any closer to her she’d go deaf.

 

She wiped at her sweaty brow with the back of her hand and wandered throughout Hogwarts. Harry Potter had defeated The Dark Lord. The war, after all of these years, was finally over. She found for the first time in years she could breathe.

 

Her grey dressrobes were singed, muddied and ripped but for once she didn’t care about her appearance. With her hand bag still fully intact and slung on her shoulder she walked back outside towards the grounds to find her grandson.

 

She had watched just a mere ten minutes ago Neville slay a snake and standup to death itself without an ounce of fear in his eyes. He was no longer the clumsy boy she had raised but a strong grown man.

 

Augusta paused at the last step and stared at her grandson from afar. He resembled his father so much. If she hadn’t known any better she would have called out for Frank at that very moment.

 

She gulped, emotion rising in her chest as Neville turned and noticed her. His lips turned upward and with the last ounce of energy he had he bounded towards her, not stopping until her was close enough to throw his arms roughly around her.

 

“Gran!” He sobbed, squeezing her as if she was a figment of his imagination.

 

Augusta, a woman who was not a fan of public displays of affection, found herself hugging him back equally as hard. She swallowed, trying to keep her tears at bay.

 

“You think you can commandeer an entire battle over here at Hogwarts,” she said, sternly. “I saw you waving your wand in the air with little care for it. Tut-tut, I thought I taught you better than that.”

 

Neville ignored her and opted to squeeze her tighter.

 

“I’ve never been so happy to see this vulture hart of yours,” he said, squeezing the bird affectionately. “I thought—“

 

Augusta pulled away from him and smacked his arm with her handbag. “Of course I’m alive. Bloody Death Eaters, yes, do not stare at me with such shock, I said _bloody_. You can’t rule Augusta Longbottom out. Unfortunately my hat is a bit singed.”

 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he said earnestly. “Gran, I can’t believe it. He’s finally gone. It’s all over.”

 

Augusta gave him a weary smile. The war might have been over but Augusta knew with every win came great loss. She thought of Molly weeping over her sons’ body and the rest of the fallen. She thought of her own children sitting in St. Mungo’s, physically there but mentally a million miles away.

 

She cupped Neville’s chubby cheeks in her hands and stared lovingly into his blue watery eyes.

 

“Neville, your parents are _so_ proud of you. I know I am. You’re just like them. So incredibly brave.”

 

Her emotions were getting the better of her. A few silent tears rolled down her cheeks and Neville wiped them away with his thumb.

 

“If anything Gran I like to think I got my strength from you. You’re the strongest person I know.”

 

Augusta smiled warmly at him and grabbed her grandson by the arm. He looped his arm with hers and hobbled next to her, ready to make the long trek back up to the castle.

 

After all these years her grandson would be able to live the life his parents had desperately fought for. He would be able to live freely without fear. Though Augusta knew after today happiness would be hard to find and it would be a long and arduous road to get comfortable with this new sense of normal. The Dark Lord might have been gone but there was still a battle to be fought. This time they would be fighting to rebuild their lives and a better society.

 

Augusta knew she was up for the challenge. She was going to do what she always did at the sign of adversity; be strong.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This story sort of escaped from me. It started off as being about Augusta learning about Frank and Alice but then Abbi’s challenge came about. I wanted to do a long study into the character of Augusta. I normally write her in a care-free fun kind of way and most people think of her as this shrill old woman who is cold towards Neville. I tried to find the in-between. I just wanted to show through everything Augusta was still fighting and she came out stronger from it all in the end. If you noticed most of her scenes happen in her kitchen. I wanted it to be a nod to the fact that her favorite meal was dinnertime. Why? Because she could dote on her family but since most of her family was gone the only place she really felt comfortable was the kitchen. I know this was long so if we you were able to get through this I’d love to know what you think.


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